The Bench of Lost Voices

Poem | Parnika Garg

Photo by Ayush Gowala

Where warmth once pressed against weathered wood,

Only shadow-forms remain,

Like whispers caught in morning frost,

Each absence etched with pain.

The curved planks hold their memories still,

Of countless stories shared,

Of lovers hands that traced their grain,

Of moments none were spared.

Now emptiness assumes their shape,

A negative of life,

As phantom echoes drift away

Like leaves caught in the strife.

The space between the armrests wide

Holds nothing but the air,

Yet somehow weighs more heavily

Than when someone sat there.

Time passes like a gentle breeze

Through spaces left behind,

The bench stands sentinel and keeps

These ghosts of humankind.

In darkness, when the park grows still,

Lost voices seem to stay,

Until dawn’s fingers brush the scene

And wash them all away.